


Wings

by NeverAndAlways



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels Have Visible Wings, Drabble, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Rare Pairings, Short One Shot, Wing Grooming, Winged Castiel, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:25:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverAndAlways/pseuds/NeverAndAlways
Summary: Just what it says on the tin.





	1. Chapter 1

It's the sound that first gets his attention. A dry rustling, like fabric, then a subtle change in the air.

Sam is awake and upright in an instant. With Dean keeping watch on the other side of town, Sam's usual vigilance is turned up a notch. Several notches, in fact. He reaches first for his gun, sitting loaded on the nightstand, then for the light. But what he sees when it turns on is not what he expected.

"Cas?"

The angel stands in the yellowish light. His shirt is half-untucked, his hair is a mess, and his trenchcoat is hanging loosely off of one wing. As soon as Sam says his name hw collapses, like a house of cards in slow motion. Sam surges out of bed to his side.

"Woah, hey, take it easy." Sam slips a hand under Cas' arm to hold him upright. Cas looks blearily up at him.

"Hello, Sam." polite as always.

Sam helps him to the bed. His wings, so carefully folded most of the time, drag behind him like a dead weight. He crumples onto the mattress. His trenchcoat is filthy; Sam reaches out to remove it, and he doesn't resist. A drying bloodstain is revealed on his left shoulder.

"What happened? Where have you been?" asks Sam. They haven't even seen Cas in days.

"I was looking for you." Cas croaks. "You and Dean."

"We're fine." Sam smiles. "Dean's on the other side of town, playing lookout." he nods to the bloodstain. "How'd that happen?"

"Demon. They didn't want me to find you. That's why it took so long. Kept throwing me off the scent." his words are halting and choppy, and his voice carries a slight Enochian lilt. He must really be tired.

"Well, you found me."

"Yes, I did." Cas sounds almost proud. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. Then it quickly fades, and he sags again. "I'm so tired, Sam."

"Yeah, well, you're filthy too." Sam stands up, bundling the trenchcoat in his arms. He jerks his head toward the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up first. You'll sleep better."

 

Sam helps Cas to the bathroom, then passes him a washcloth, a T-shirt, and some clean pajama pants, and closes the door. Ten minutes pass. Fifteen. Sam knocks on the door.

"You okay in there?"

Cas' voice, muffled by door and washcloth, drifts back to him. "I'm fine. Come in if you like."

So he does. He pushes the door open and steps inside, or tries to. It's a small bathroom anyway, even without the angel and his ten-foot wingspan. Peering around them, Sam can just barely see himself in the mirror.

Cas stands at the sink, scrubbing his face and neck with the washcloth. He's wearing pants, at least; the shirt is draped over the back of the toilet. Whatever was done to his shoulder is healed. Only a faint, scabby-looking bloodstain is left behind. Sam tries to keep his gaze at eye level.

"Better?" he asks. Cas drops the washcloth in the sink.

"Somewhat." his wings shift and rustle. Sam nearly gets a face full of black feathers. And it's then he notices - they're in worse condition than the rest of the angel. The primaries and secondaries are in disarray, the smaller coverts and even the down feathers are a mess. On impulse, he goes to touch them, but stops short.

"Is something wrong, Sam?"

Sam's gaze flicks back up. Blue eyes look back at him from the mirror. "Your wings." Sam begins. "They're all-" before he can stop himself, he reaches out and runs his hand through the feathers at the wing's edge. He can actually see Cas tense up, and he knows he's crossed the line, big time. Not so much crossed it as jumped over it. He pulls his hand back, his face burning.

"Sorry, I-" he stutters to a halt.

Then something happens that he didn't expect. Cas relaxes. His wings unfold a little; his hands unclench from the countertop. And there are those blue eyes again, staring out at him from the mirror. Cas swallows hard. "That's alright." he says quietly. He rolls his shoulders. "Actually..."

"What? What do you need?"

Cas considers Sam for a moment longer. Then his turns and squeezes past the hunter, back into the motel room. Sam gets the feeling he's meant to follow. So he does.

Cas leads him to the bed, where he lies down on his stomach and spreads his wings. Sam balks for a second, blushing even more now. There's an awkward pause. Cas props himself up on his elbows.

"Sam. Come here."

He can't get a read on the angel's voice, and yet Sam finds himself climbing onto the bed beside him. Cas folds one wing to make room for him. "What's up?" Sam tries to sound nonchalant.

"I need-" Cas hesitates like he's not sure how to say it. His wings shuffle, fold and re-fold on his back. "Can you...can you preen them?"

"Preen-?"

"My wings." he spreads one as if to illustrate his point. It covers Sam's lap completely and could probably cover the bed too, and it's not even fully extended. "I don't have enough energy to tend them myself."

There's a lingering blush high on Sam's cheeks. He ghosts one hand over the feathers, still almost afraid to touch them. "What do I do?" he asks. "I mean, I have a comb, if-"

"No. Just comb your fingers through them. Straighten them out if you can."

Sam hums acknowledgement. Sounds easy enough. He lets himself touch, just gently, just the edge of the wing. The feathers are glossy blue-black, almost iridescent in some places, with sheens of green and purple peeking through.

Cas laughs against the bedspread. "It's alright, Sam. You won't hurt me."

"I know, I just..." he doesn't finish the sentence. Instead he takes a deep breath and - finally - lays his palm flat on Castiel's wing. It's soft, so soft, and warm under his hand. He buries his fingers in the feathers. He could stay like this for ages, he thinks. But the wing gives an impatient twitch, reminding him to get to work. So he does. He combs through the feathers, straightening here, gently rearranging there. A feather or two comes loose. No big deal, says Cas, so he moves on.

And it's...nice. It's really nice. Weird, if he thinks about it too much. I mean, sitting on a motel bed at roughly three in the morning, with an Angel of the Lord. Preening said angel's wings. What the hell. But Cas' wings are soft and the room is quiet, and it feels as though they have all the time in the world. The more Sam preens, the more Cas relaxes. By the time he reaches the scapulars, the angel is boneless. He only moves to turn around so Sam can do the other wing.

Sam drinks in the details as he goes. Cas is really quite beautiful. Feathers give way to shoulderblades, a sloping spine, covered in pale skin and the occasional freckle. Muscles shift as he rolls his shoulders. This feels like a privilege, like sharing a secret. And maybe it is. Sam lingers at the scapulars of the second wing. They're the softest part; there, the coverts turn into down feathers, so fine he's almost scared to touch them. But at last he's done - Cas' wings are glossy and neat, spread  out across the bed. Sam stretches languidly. He hasn't felt this peaceful in a long, long time.

"Cas?" he whispers.

Silence.

"Castiel?"

Sam leans over the angel. Cas' eyes are shut; his head is pillowed on his arms. Sam says his name again.

The only answer is a snore.

 

ooo

 

"Sammy! Open up!"

Dean jams the key into the locked motel room door. His phone is pressed to his ear. It has not been a good morning. He's been trying to get ahold of his brother for an hour and a half and at this point, he doesn't know if he's angry or scared.

The door bursts open. He storms inside.

"Sammy, you in here? Answer your goddamn phone once in a while, I-"

His gaze falls on the bed. He stops short.

The first thing he sees is Cas.

Shirtless. Wings spread.

Over Sam.

Sam and Castiel are lying almost on top of each other. Cas' left wing covers Sam like a feathery blanket; Sam's head is on Cas' shoulder. They're both fast asleep.

Dean stares. This is...unexpected, to say the least. Sam's got some explaining to do when he wakes up.

Then, without another word, he slowly backs up. Shuffles out of the room. And shuts the door behind him.

 

oOo


	2. Chapter 2

This preening has become almost a regular thing now. They'll be sitting in a motel room, maybe the backseat of the Impala, and Cas just spreads his wings to Sam. Like a human opening their arms for a hug. Sam finds himself drawn to it, to them; it's almost addicting. After a tough case or a long day, it feels like...well, it feels like home. Encircled by feathers and close to Cas, he thinks he's never felt safer.

It's a funny thing, though. A few years ago - even a few months ago - Cas was just a friend. Special, sure (especially to Dean, for obvious reasons). But just a friend. When did that change? When they closed that hellmouth a few weeks back, they almost lost Cas in the process. It was a near-constant flow of demons and hellhounds for a while; every time they got close, Cas seemed to take the brunt of it. Closing it took a lot of elbow grease and a good amount of Grace. By the end of it, their resident angel was missing half the feathers on one wing. Sam doesn't remember ever being so scared for somebody, save for Dean.

Those feathers are still growing back. Castiel's wing bristles with pinfeathers, growing out through still-healing burns. Sam keeps a close eye on them. And Dean keeps his distance. He seems to have accepted that there's something going on between his little brother and this angel, even though he can't put a name to it. He looks on while Sam carefully tends to the spots that Cas can't reach, and once or twice, Sam catches him smiling.

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

Cas sits on the motel bed. Sam is cross-legged behind him, rolling a pinfeather between his thumb and forefinger. Cas' eyes are closed. The room is quiet. Intimate, but not. They're both tired; it's been a long day, longer than most. This case is requiring a lot of legwork and running around. In fact, they haven't even seen Dean in almost 48 hours.

Sam pulls gently. The pinfeather sheath slides off, revealing a glossy new feather underneath. He smiles.

"Good as new. How's that feel?"

Cas shrugs one shoulder, then the other. "Still sore, but better." he shifts onto his knees and rolls his shoulders again. Then he unfolds his wings and flaps them a few times, hard. The force of it sends the curtains billowing and papers jumping off the desk, and messes up Sam's hair. Cas sinks back to sit down again. "Much better." he sighs. Sam can hear the smile in the angel's voice. He doesn't quite know why, but it makes hiim smile too. He feels a blush creep across his cheeks.

Suddenly Cas shifts. He sort of melts backward, like a cat, until he's flat on his back - with his head in Sam's lap. Now Sam's definitely blushing. He looks down. Cas is boneless, wearing a sleepy smile.

_You are one blissed-out angel._

"Sam." Cas breathes the word.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. I like the sound of your name."

Sam laughs. "You're weird."

"Mm-hmm."

Cas puts a hand on either side of Sam's face. For a few seconds he studies him with that peculiar gaze of his, that squint like he's trying to read you. Then he pulls Sam down toward him - and kisses him.

Sam would never have seen it coming. Not in a million years. And you know what? He doesn't mind. It's an awkward kiss, but it's a kiss and it's Cas and that makes it just about perfect. He kisses him until he's out of breath, then he pulls away.

Did that just happen?

Cas is smiling up at him, a softer version of that blissed-out smile he had a minute ago. Yeah, that just happened.

"That was nice." says Sam. Cas' smile widens. He reaches up for another kiss. But just as he's closing the distance, there's a knock on the door. A rough voice filters through.

"Cas, Sammy? It's me. I brought dinner."

Well, the moment was nice while it lasted. Cas slides off the bed, folds his wings neatly, and pads away to the door.

Behind him, Sam lies down, and smiles a blissed-out smile of his own.

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked the story, please leave a comment - I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> ~~~
> 
> There's more where this came from, so keep your eyes peeled!


	3. Chapter 3

On the side of a highway, in the back end of nowhere, Baby sits and gleams. Dean and Sam are reclined on her hood with a beer each. They're off-duty today: no cases, no monsters, no killing. It's a rare luxury, and one they intend to savor.

Dean shields his eyes and squints up into the clouds.

"I don't see him."

Sam points. "One o'clock." he says. And sure enough, there above them is a dark figure, wheeling slowly in the wind. Sam waves. The figure hesitates, folds its wings slightly, and begins its descent.

Dean takes a sip of his beer. "Can't remember the last time we got to relax like this." he muses.

"Mm."

A wind is picking up; the figure hangs in the updraft, kiting just over the car. Black wings flutter; it's Castiel.

"How's the weather up there?" Dean calls to him.

"Perfect!" Cas calls back. There's a lightness in his voice that's seldom heard. Sam grins at the sound. He reaches into the grocery bag beside him, pulls out a bottle, and offers it to the angel. Cas puts on the brakes with great rowing wingbeats, sinking and sinking until his feet touch the ground. Then he folds his wings and saunters up to the car.

He's breathing hard, and his face is flushed from the wind, but he looks so happy. Sam holds the bottle out to him - soda, not beer. They've learned through experience that flying drunk is just as bad as driving. The angel takes it, uncaps it, takes a long drink. Then he hands it back.

"Good flight?" asks Sam.

Cas gives him a smile. A genuine one. "It's wonderful, Sam. I could take you up with me if you like."

"Uh. No, I - I think I'll pass." says Sam quickly.

Dean elbows him. "Chicken."

Sam ignores that. "Some other time." he says to Cas. "You enjoy."

The angel gives him another smile. Then he stands back. His wings unfurl. He starts to jog out into the field, then breaks into a run. Sam and Dean can almost feel the heavy _thwump_ of each wingbeat.

And then he jumps.

Cas hangs in the air for a long second, flapping madly. But then - then his wings take over. He gains altitude. His flight levels out. His wingbeats become smooth. He's flying. He soars across the field, banks, turns and gains more altitude...

Sam turns to put the soda away and finds Dean watching him. There's an odd look in his eyes. Contemplative. Knowing.

A smile quirks at the corner of Dean's mouth as he says, "You really do, don't you."

"What?" Sam eyes his brother warily.

"Cas. You love him."

For once, Sam is struck speechless. He breaks away from Dean's gaze to stare into the middle distance, the point where road meets sky.

"Sammy?"

Sam turns back. Dean's still giving him that _look_. Damn him. He doesn't meet his brother's gaze.

"Maybe." he says the word like it's something to be guilty of. He sees Dean smile. His tone switches right to defensive. "What if I do?"

"Then I'm happy for you. Both of you."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? Jesus, Sammy, why would I be mad? You love the guy, and it's obviously mutual. You guys deserve to be happy."

"But you and Cas-"

Dean waves him into silence. "That's different. I mean, he pulled me outta the Pit, Sammy; what I have with Cas is special, but it's not romantic. At all. He's more like a brother. Making out with him would be like making out with _you_." Sam wrinkles his nose at this. "Exactly. As Cas would say, it's like birds and bats. Totally different." far overhead, they watch as Cas stoops to startle a flock of pigeons. "Besides," says Dean, a little more quietly, "it's good to see you movin' on from Jess."

Sam is quiet for a minute. The edge of his voice is sharp when he finally speaks. "I haven't forgotten her, Dean." he drops the words roughly.

"I didn't say that." Dean soothes. "I just meant-"

"I know what you meant. And I appreciate it." Sam stares into his beer bottle like he can find the answers in it. "It just. I do love Cas, but...I love her too, y'know? I feel like I alway will."

His brother gives him that contemplative look again. Then he turns his gaze back to the road. "I know." he says, quiet and heavy. They say nothing more.

A sudden breeze ruffles their hair; there's a _thunk_ on the roof of the car. The brothers look around. Castiel is standing behind them like he's been there all along, folding his wings and straightening his collar. He sits down.

"Had enough?" asks Sam.

"For now." Cas replies. He takes a deep breath, and smiles. Days like these are as good for him as they are for the boys. He doesn't get many chances to really stretch his wings like this. There are always too many people around, too much risk. Out here, where the houses are miles apart, he can fly to his heart's content (but not without a little angel mojo, just to be safe). "Oh, by the way...there's a thunderstorm moving in. Due west. We may want to leave soon." he says, like an afterthought. Sam and Dean look at each other.

"Well, you heard the angel." says Dean. "Guess it's time to move on." he slides off the hood and goes around to unlock the car. And with a glance back at Cas, Sam follows.

oOo


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feeling kinda lonely and sad tonight and I don't know why. So I'm going to write about someone who's neither of those things. Because that's totally healthy. :/

So Sam has learned a lot of things from his relationship with Cas (which, yeah, they're calling it that now. He still has to pinch himself to make sure it's real).

Most recently, he's learned that Cas is a cuddler. A pretty serious one, too. Like right now: they're in the backseat of the Impala, somewhere in the Columbia Gorge, and Cas is sitting as close to Sam as their seatbelts will let them. His head is tucked into the crook of Sam's neck, their fingers intertwined in his lap, and the one wing that's not pressed against the seat is half-spread so the tips of the primaries just brush Sam's knee. Autumn colors streak past the windows. Sam lets his head loll over to rest on Cas'.

Up in the driver's seat, Dean angles the rearview mirror.

"You lovebirds okay back there?" he asks. Ever since Sam and Cas made their relationship official, Dean has taken his role as older brother very seriously and teased the hell out of Sammy.

Cas opens one eye to glare at Dean. His voice is rusty with disuse. "I have told you before. Just because I have wings, does not mean you can or should give me avian nicknames."

"But that's no fun." Dean angles a mischievous grin back at them.

"Dean?" Sam this time.

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Fuck off."

Dean laughs. "Alright, I'm sorry. I'll stop." his brother sighs. "Seriously though, don't get too comfy. We're almost there."

Sam and Cas make sounds of acknowledgement in response. Reluctantly, Sam untangles himself from his boyfriend (still amazed that he gets to call him that) and sits up to look out the window. Peace and quiet is hard to come by in this family.

oOo

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, please leave a comment - I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
